


Is It Real Or Is It Toothbox?

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Let’s say Pitch knows Jack’s past. While he’s taunting him in his lair in the part right before the guardians think Jack betrayed them, he sucks Jack into a nightmare in which he wakes up in a hospital bed in colonial Boston, surrounded by his family, having been laid up for weeks with a horrible illness from having fallen in the lake.However, he didn’t see his memories by this point and so has no idea what’s going on. And everything gets worse from there in the fashion of early-1700s New England.Meanwhile, everything else is still going on, and he’s passed out in Pitch’s lair.You decide what happens from there!"So I think this prompt wants Jack to get thought of as a witch or possessed or something for babbling about modern stuff or the Guardians but I have to think Jack’s more savvy than that. Also…Boston is a weird choice for a city if Jack’s pond is anywhere in Pennsylvania.SO. Jack wakes up in a hospital, and has to figure out what’s going on. He does, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. (The title is because I vaguely remember the phrase “Is it real or is it Memorex?” being a thing, I don’t know. You try coming up with titles for all these things.)





	Is It Real Or Is It Toothbox?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 6/20/2016.

Jack opened his eyes slowly to find himself indoors, in a bed, and that it was daylight. Absolutely none of these things made sense. Seconds ago he had…he had….  
  
Strange. He couldn’t remember where he had been, but it hadn’t been inside a building or daytime. Of that much he was sure.  
  
He tried to sit up to get a better picture of his surroundings, but he discovered, to his dismay, that he was terribly weak, and by the time he did manage a seated position, he was breathing heavily.  
  
When he looked around, what he saw gave information, but not explanation. The bed he was on was narrow, with a thin mattress and sheets that were clean, but worn and oddly scratchy. There was a small table beside him that held a basin and pitcher, a stack of washcloths, and a small bottle in brown glass. The floor of the room was wood, the walls and ceiling were whitewashed. Jack couldn’t see anything from the window but the tops of trees, and a curtain blocked his view from the rest of the room, though something made him think that it was actually quite large.  
  
The obvious problem about all of this was that it definitely wasn’t 2012. That was when Jack knew he should be, and it had taken him long enough to get there. He should be in 2012, and he should be able to fly, and create ice, and—Jack looked down for his staff, and yelped when he saw his hands, all thoughts of the staff forgotten. They were still pale, yes, but they were pale in a human way. There was more pink than purple and blue in the undertones of his skin, now. He brought up his arm to look closely at it, then tugged a lock of his hair out so he could see it. It was undeniably brown.  
  
How—how had this happened? Was he human now? And if he _was_ human, why was he in some place that looked like it was from the same year he emerged from the lake as Jack Frost? And, as a more minor detail, where were his clothes? All he had on now was a loose, white nightshirt.  
  
A man in dark clothes that, again, looked like they were from the time when Jack first became aware pulled back the curtain and Jack startled. “Ah, you are awake again,” he said. “Are you able to speak sensibly?”  
  
“Where am I?” Jack asked.  
  
The man’s face broke into a wide smile. “Praise the Lord,” he said, “we had feared the worst. Boy, can you tell me your name?”  
  
Jack’s mind raced. Whatever was going on, he didn’t seem to be Jack Frost. He needed answers far more than he needed to insist upon something that had always seemed so impossible, even to himself. “Jack,” he said tentatively.  
  
The man paused, waiting for more, then nodded as his smile faded. “I have read that your wits may not fully recover for many years after your injury. Still, I have high hopes, since you are speaking at all. Your name is Jackson Overland, and you are in the hospital at ——-. You are here because you fell through thin ice and nearly drowned in the freezing water underneath. You did not wake after you were rescued, though you did breathe. When you developed a fever your mother brought you here, and it is in that fever that you have been insensible for nearly two weeks now. I do not know exactly how long you were unable to breathe, but since you have awakened and your fever has apparently broken, I expect you will recover well. I will go and send for your mother at once, and send up some food for you, as well.”  
  
Jack nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t…I don’t remember drowning at all.”  
  
“That may be for the best,” the doctor said. “Now, if all goes well, your mother should be able to be here by this evening. For now, rest, and I recommend getting back under your covers. It’s still not very warm outside.” He smiled again. “It really is a great joy to see you returned to yourself.”  
  
When Jack was alone again, he did lie down and pull the covers back up around him. He felt very weak again, and, indeed, cold, which he couldn’t remember ever having felt firsthand before. But no doubt Jackson Overland had, and was that him? Had everything from the cold dark and the moon’s light to the sled ride with the child, Jamie, in 2012 been a fever dream?  
  
Jack narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said aloud. He had spent a lot of time making sure he always knew what was real or not, since his own existence as Jack Frost was so strange, and there was something off, here. Just little things, like when the doctor said the name of the city. Jack couldn’t even remember what it was, now. And if they were in a city, were they at the very edge of it? Why were there only trees outside the window?  
  
And drowning…Jack had been afraid when he awoke in the pond, and he didn’t really care for large bodies of water, but there was something…  
  
Jack’s eyes widened. The Guardians! Tooth had said that all of the Guardians had been someone before, but Jack couldn’t remember, and so, could this be a memory? And he had gone looking for his memories but Pitch had stolen…Pitch had offered. Jack remembered being uncertain, and then…then he woke up here. So this must be a memory, and he would meet—he would meet his mom. Even as the joy and anticipation filled him, though, his brain kept worrying away at the situation.  
  
If this was a memory, why did he have to decide how to respond to the doctor? How could he decide to do anything that had already happened? And…these thoughts were hard to hold on to, but memories had to do with Tooth, and Tooth had to do with the Guardians, and the Guardians were fighting Pitch, and Pitch! Pitch was still out there and he…he killed Sandy! And Sandy was dreams and was _this_ a dream, then? But Pitch…Jack pressed his head into the pillow. He couldn’t think, and was that a sign of this being a dream, or not? And how could this be a dream if Sandy was gone? Pitch could only make nightmares and…  
  
And Jack was sleeping instead of confronting Pitch! That’s what was happening. And if Pitch couldn’t create good dreams…then Jack didn’t want to see anyone else in this world.  
  
The only question now, was: How was he going to wake up?

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> #also my theory is that Pitch used some dreamsand he hadn't yet corrupted to make a mostly good dream for Jack #to actually keep him asleep and out of the picture #if nothing's wrong you can't realize that something's wrong #right?
> 
> bowlingforgerbils said: I liked this! It reminded me of that creature in the Tiffany Aching book that traps people in dreams. I’m glad Jack is clever enough to think himself out of it!


End file.
